


They Might Be Giants

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Colepaldi, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conventions are always fun, regardless of the specificities of the situation. But conventions which double up as reunions are somehow an even more appealing prospect, and don't feel much like working. Besides, it's been too long since they were last together, and somewhere between airport lounges, flights and backstage, there's always the opportunity to muck about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Might Be Giants

**Author's Note:**

> These are a series of interconnected drabbles I wrote based on the photos, videos and stories of Michelle, Peter & Jenna at Dallas Fan Expo. I wondered what it'd be like to be able to see what happened behind the scenes, and this came about as a result.
> 
> Pure fluffiness and and purely platonic in nature (sorry) - enjoy!

"Remind me," Jenna asked, for the tenth time that morning, yawning widely. "Why you let me go to that event last night?" 

"Because," Annie, her manager, said coolly, flicking through emails on her phone as she spoke. "You were _very_ insistent at the time. Besides, you're allowed to let your hair down from time to time, it's totally allowed when you've been working as hard as you have." 

Jenna groaned loudly, closing her eyes as her stylist fussed over her hair, firing off rapid instructions to Annie about changes of clothes and humidity levels and scheduled makeup touch ups. "Next time," she said firmly. "Next time, when I want to go out the night before a flight, please _put your foot down_. Can someone pass the Red Bull?" 

"Jen, your lipstick-" 

"I don't _care_ about my lipstick." 

"You won't sleep on the plane if you have any more caffeine," Annie said pragmatically, leaning over and moving the can of energy drink from out of Jenna's reach just in case. "Trust me." 

"I've only had..." Jenna did the mental maths, trying to cast her mind back over this morning’s manic dash to the airport. "A skinny latte and a can of sugar-free Red Bull. Crap. Point taken. Sleeping on planes - important."

"Like you're gonna sleep anyway," her assistant added with a small grin, familiar with how the situation would pan out. "You'll be chattering away to Peter, I bet." 

"Well, yeah," Jenna laughed rolling her shoulders a little to try and stretch her aching muscles. "But sleeping too. With him. Oh god, not _with him_ in that way. With him in a... Oh, Christ, it's too early." 

"Jenna, honey, it's 10am." 

"Too early," she reiterated as they pulled up at Heathrow, looking around the car warily. "Are we all clear for paps?" 

"Yep," Annie said confidently, stashing her phone in her pocket and reaching for Jenna’s luggage. "Couple of fans though."

"Fans I can live with. Fans _make_ a day; paps _break_ a day." Jenna climbed out of the taxi with a smile, stretching her arms luxuriously, her small entourage behind her as she greeted fans brightly, before offering apologies to the gaggle of well-wishers and heading for the check-in desks contritely. 

As her manager checked the team in, she drummed her fingers against her thigh impatiently, wondering idly whether Peter would be upstairs in the lounge with Michelle yet, or whether he'd arrive at the eleventh hour with a smile and an apology. Somehow that seemed to work for him more than it did for her, she thought to herself with no hint of bitterness. She really should take a leaf out of his book.

"Jen?" Annie's voice cut through her thoughts, and she jumped a little. "Are you gonna stand there all day or come and get frisked at security with the rest of us?" 

"Oh god," she replied with a groan, following her manager to the queue and obediently placing her bag, phone and shoes in a plastic tray, trying to banish memories of a particularly terrible experience in Australia. "Don't even joke about that after last time. He was _way_ too weird." 

"You just attract the occasional... Enthusiast. It's not our fault, darling." Annie smirked at her slightly, before turning and walking through the scanner with a wink. Jenna rolled her eyes.

"Show off," she mouthed when it failed to sound, before she headed through herself, silently offering a prayer of thanks when it failed to beep for her either. "The odds are in my favour today, go us." 

"You know what isn't?" Her assistant asked pointedly, leaning over and checking her watch. "Time." 

"Kelsey," Jenna said reassuringly, pulled her boots back on with one hand. "One, the flight is in two hours. Two, not to brag or anything, but time is kind of my thing." 

"Was," Kelsey muttered, and Jenna felt a twinge of sadness well up within her at the words, remembering with a pang that this – cons, events, spending time with Peter – was no longer a regular thing. "Come on, up to the lounges." 

Jenna capitulated to her team's orders and followed them obediently up to the business class lounge, grumbling lightly as they went. "Don't see why we can't just sit in economy like you guys," she mumbled outside, as they embraced her before heading off to their own departure lounge. "We'd get to meet fans and look _normal_." 

"Normal's boring," came a familiar voice from behind her, as her team pushed her over the threshold with a grin. "And you wouldn't get to spend uninterrupted time with me." 

Jenna whirled around, her complaints dying on her lips as she grinned at Peter widely, racing across the space between them and embracing him tightly as he chuckled, bending down a little so he could kiss her cheek. 

"I jest, I jest. You look wonderful, sweetheart." 

She pulled back slightly so she could look up at him critically, giving him the once-over. "You look..." She pulled a face. "Scruffy. At least the beard has gone."

"My public like me scruffy," he quipped, attempting a serious, pondering expression, stroking an imaginary beard. "I confess, I wasn't sure on the beard." 

"None of us were," interjected another voice, and Michelle swung round in an officious-looking leather chair, grinning up at them both wickedly. "What was it, they christened you online? Beardpaldi?" 

Jenna laughed and took a couple of steps towards Michelle, who grabbed her by the hand and pulled her onto her lap unexpectedly. "Hey!" 

"You're tiny, this was quicker than me getting up," Michelle explained with an eye roll, embracing the younger woman with a fond smile and bouncing her on her lap slightly, as though Jenna were a small child. In a sing-song voice she asked: "How's my little northerner?" 

"Tired," Jenna confessed with a yawn, reaching up to rub her eyes before remembering her carefully-applied eyeliner. "Ready to sleep on the plane." 

"Sleep on the plane? My dear, there will be no sleeping on planes occurring. You'll be getting beautied up, I'll be getting tanked, and Peter will be... Having a shave, hopefully." 

"Rude," he protested. "You can't get tanked, dear. And Jenna is beautied up anyway." 

"Are you sure?" Michelle squinted at Jenna playfully, and received a light smack on the arm in response. "I kid. You look delightful, Miss Coleman. I assume you're not rocking up in those delectable joggers though?" 

"Sadly not," Jenna wrinkled her nose, smoothing down the thick fabric with her hands. "They're comfy but not very... Rock and roll." 

"Nor are you, that's Capaldi's job," Michelle grinned in his direction, and he obligingly played a few notes of air guitar. "I'm sure you'll look fabulous. I'm opting for kitten ears." 

"What's with the ears?" Peter enquired curiously, sinking into a chair beside them. "I mean, they're great – loved the photo on the group chat, by the way – but _why_?" 

"Why not?" Michelle asked with a small pout, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "They're fabulous, and a _little_ bit bonkers. Bit like me. Bit like Missy." 

"Good point, well made," Jenna concurred, mirroring Michelle’s pout as she continued: "You've gotta let me sleep on the plane. Please. I went out last night." 

"So I saw," Michelle grinned wickedly. "Shame you're not hungover, really. Nothing like a con on a hangover." 

"Are you ladies going to keep ribbing each other the whole way there? Or am I going to get a word in edgeways?" Peter joked, and Michelle laughed.

“Jealous?” she teased, and he adopted a sad expression in an attempt to tug at their heartstrings. 

"Sorry," Jenna acquiesced, standing and then leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. "You’re looking suave, Peter. _Much_ more glam than me, and the funky joggers." 

"Thank you," he beamed, swivelling the chair from side to side with his Doc Martens. "Comfort can be chic. Speaking of which, it must be nice being out of corsets, I’ll bet." 

"Oh god," Jenna groaned, the memories coming back to haunt her. "Don't even get me bloody started. I still have bruising. _Actual_ bruising, all over my ribs. It looks like I got beaten up." 

"Playing Queen Victoria though..." Peter said with admiration, smiling at her proudly. "Quite the coup." 

"Playing Doctor Who still," Jenna shot back immediately. "Quite the coup."

"Hey," he said, mock-defensively, holding up his hands. "You chose to leave, hon." 

"Mm," she said absently, sighing a little. "I know."

 

~/~/~/~

 

Michelle had, of course, fallen asleep within minutes of getting on the plane. Jenna had grinned and snapped the obligatory embarrassing photo, but now she was curled up in her seat, a screenplay spread over her knees as she chewed idly on her nail, wondering what the con would be like, what she was supposed to wear, how bad the jet lag would be. 

"Anything good?" Peter asked, leaning over and sneaking a peek at the script, half-concerned that Jenna would bat him away from it. 

"Not grabbing me," she admitted, closing it and putting it away in her bag, leaning back in her chair and confessing: "The characters' chemistry isn't what it could be, and the plot is a little lacking."

"Ah," Peter said understandingly. “Read a few of those myself… at least we can afford to maybe be a little more _choice_ now. I bet you’ll get sent loads of great stuff.” 

“I don’t know,” Jenna admitted, chewing her lip nervously. “I’m worried I won’t.” 

“Hey,” he said immediately, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Don’t worry. I mean, you’re a decent actress.” He winked at her playfully. “I guess.” 

“Thanks,” she said affectionately, grateful for his humour and his kindness. “It means a lot.” 

“Well, they don’t call me Mr Motivator for nothing,” he grinned, then grimaced. “Or at all, that sounded better in my head.” He reached into his bag and produced two small chocolate bars, offering one to Jenna in a gesture of solidarity. "Edible motivation, just don't tell Sleeping Beauty." 

"I won’t," she promised, leaning over and taking one from him with a grateful smile, unwrapping it as she spoke. "You excited?"

"Bit nervous," he confessed shyly, his eyes flickering down to his hands so she wouldn’t see the nerves in his eyes. "Second US con..." 

"It’ll be fine," Jenna assured him with a warm smile, biting into the chocolate and then speaking with her mouth full: "Least it’s smaller than San Diego! That was pretty nuts, this is going to be a little more manageable.”

"Everyone is going to be freaking out," he said with a chuckle, breaking off a neat square of chocolate and popping it in his mouth, chewing it thoroughly and swallowing before continuing: "us appearing together again. Scandalous." He winked at her. "Obviously now you've left I'm to excommunicate you." 

"Obviously," Jenna laughed, giving him her best regal look and using her best Clara Oswald voice. "God, get back into Cardinal mode and cast me out the group." 

"Jen," he said quietly, suddenly serious, no longer joking. "We will all miss you." 

"I know," she said softly, refusing to meet his gaze. "And I you."

"You'll always be welcome back..." 

"Don't..."

"OK," he concurred, smiling at her warmly as he immediately dropped the issue, much to her relief. "Want to see how many things we can balance on Michelle before she wakes up?"

 

~/~/~/~

 

When their teams - relegated unceremoniously to economy, with minimal complaints - came to check on the three of them, they found Peter and Jenna asleep, leaning against each other comfortably as they slumbered while covered with neatly placed in-flight magazines. 

Collectively, all nine pairs of eyes swung to Michelle, who was sat up, wide eyed and feigning innocence. 

"What?" She asked them with a wide, blameless smile. "They started it."

 

~/~/~/~

 

"Next question?" the host asked, and Jenna and Peter looked around the audience expectantly, caught up in the euphoric mood of hundreds of fans. 

A girl stepped up to the microphone, dressed in a Clara cosplay and looking distinctly nervous. 

"Hi," she began uncertainly in a British accent, and Jenna felt recognition dawn. "I-" 

"You were in my autograph line," she said with dawning clarity and a small sense of guilt. "Awesome outfit, sorry I had to dash off before I got to you." 

"Thank you," the girl said, flushing pink but beaming widely. "It's OK, I've got all day." 

"You're a long way from home, aren't you?" Peter interjected quizzically. "Where's that accent from?" 

"Dorset," the girl confessed, looking a little pleased. "You guys weren't doing any UK cons this year, so I saved up and came over to see you here."

"That's really sweet," Jenna said, smiling at Peter in a way he understood to mean _our fans are the best people in the world_. "So, what's the six-thousand-mile question?"

"Well," the girl began. "Series nine really hit a nerve with me and encouraged me to grow more confident and be braver, you know, Clara Oswald style. It helped me come out of my comfort zone and ask my girlfriend out, using Doctor Who metaphors, and we've been dating for five months."

There was a round of applause, and the girl paused, a little embarrassed by the reaction from the audience.

"Anyway," she continued after a moment. "I just wondered what it's like, knowing that you can have that kind of positive impact on someone's life?"

"Wow," Jenna said, looking to Peter then back to the girl. "What a wonderful story! It's... I mean, it's a huge honour. I don't think there are a lot of shows that give you, almost that level of like, power... Doctor Who is so hugely influential and knowing that you can exert that power even without intending to is both a really nice and really scary thought. It kind of makes you want to do the best you can and make sure your character is the best they can be – which obviously Steven helps with – so that the influence you're giving out is positive. Which in your case has obviously been amazing!"

"I agree with Jenna," Peter said. "I think series nine showed people that you can be emotionally vulnerable and you can be changed by your experiences... Clara is obviously suffering very much after losing Danny, so she's changed, and in some ways she's stronger but in some ways she's more vulnerable. And so to show her facing the Raven and her facing her fate has shown a lot of people who may be struggling with personal circumstances that they can be strong. So knowing that we're having that effect on people - of influencing young people to be strong and to face up to things that might scare them - is wonderful, and it's an absolute privilege to be able to have that influence."

"Thank you," the girl said quietly, and with that she returned to her seat, smiling at them both gratefully.

 

~/~/~/~

 

As Jenna and Peter left the panel and stepped backstage, into the cool embrace of the inner corridors of the building, Jenna paused momentarily, looking to Peter with an unreadable expression. 

"Jenna, honey?" He asked, concern heavy in his tone, but she only shook her head, reaching to him for a hug, which he obligingly provided. 

"That girl," she said with a sigh. "I just..." 

"Is this about running off on her for your panel?" 

"Nope," she murmured into his chest, unsure how to phrase her feelings. "It's about..." 

"What, Jen?" He asked worriedly, and she looked up at him sadly. 

"When you meet people like that..." She confessed. "When you hear their stories... you realise how much you can change people’s lives. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that again…” 

“Don’t be daft,” he said kindly. “You’ll have that impact again, Jen, and besides… no one is ever going to forget you as Clara.” 

“Really?” she asked, her voice small.

“Jen,” he said softly. “You took the leap of faith, hon. _Let me be brave_... you _were_ brave; the bravest. No one will forget you. I promise.”


End file.
